by Diana Bold
Michael stared down at his lovely annoying wife and wanted to do as she asked. He wanted to share the burden of his father’s sins with someone.
But such sweetness frightened him, and he fought the temptation. He couldn’t imagine giving voice to the things Dylan had told him without coming undone.
“I can’t.” His voice sounded ragged and strange, even to his own ears. “Please, just leave me alone.”
To Michael’s astonishment, Emma refused to go. “At least let me comfort you.” Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.
For a moment, he resisted, even going so far as to try and shove her away, but she wouldn’t give an inch. At last, he relented. He let her hold him and marveled that it felt so right, that her soft warmth soothed some of the grief roiling within him.
He couldn’t remember anyone ever holding him this way before. All his life, he’d borne his troubles and problems alone.
He lowered his face to her hair and took a deep calming breath of her wonderful flowery scent. “Why are you being so kind to me?” The amount of alcohol he’d consumed made it hard to focus his thoughts. “I thought you’d be furious when I didn’t come to you last night.”
“I was furious.” She lifted her face, and he lost himself in the depths of her dark knowing eyes. “In fact, I came in here to tell you I intended to annul our marriage on the grounds of nonconsummation.”
He caught his breath, stunned by the thought of her doing such a thing. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just couldn’t bear to let you see me this way.”
She shook her head in surprise. “You think you’re the only one who’s frightened by this thing between us, Michael? I’m frightened, too. But at least I’m willing to try, to take a gamble.”
He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t leave me. I know I deserve it, but if you go, I’ll have nothing.”
It was the closest he’d ever come to begging for something. He held his breath, feeling as though he’d shatter if she walked away from him now.
She was still for a long moment, then she tilted her face forward and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. “Then give me something to stay for, Michael. Please. Give me just one reason to stay.”
Michael drew back and stared into his wife’s beautiful dark eyes, stunned by her easy forgiveness. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, knowing no truer words had ever been spoken. “But if you’re willing to give me another chance, I promise not to disappoint you.”
* * *
Emma’s heart raced as she led Michael through the silent house toward her bedroom. He followed without protest, the fierce emotion that had driven him earlier spent.
As they drew near her bedroom door, doubt overtook her, and her footsteps slowed. Once they crossed the threshold, there was no turning back. Michael would become her husband in truth. There’d be no grounds for an annulment.
Seeming to read her thoughts, he tugged at her hand, pulling her around to face him. “You don’t have to do this. Perhaps it would be for the best if you just walked away from me, from all of this.”
She stared up at him. He looked so broken and unsure, all his pride and arrogance stripped away. “I won’t walk away from you. I’m your wife.”
Michael shook his head, then bent and kissed her, a light gentle brush of his lips. “My wife.” He said the words as if they were foreign words he was just learning.
“Oh, Michael,” she breathed. “Don’t think so much. Just come into my bedroom. Hold me, touch me, kiss me the way only you can do. I promise things will look better in the morning.”
He managed a hint of a smile. “All I know for certain is that I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”
Emboldened by his words, she took his hand and pulled him into her bedchamber, locking the door behind them. When she turned around, Michael stood by her bed, loosening his cravat with slow deliberate motions.
She stood frozen in place and watched her beautiful husband undress, captivated by each inch of bare skin he revealed. First, he shrugged out of his jacket, then the crisp white shirt. His chest was a symphony of powerful muscle and golden skin, with a soft patch of dark blond hair she longed to run her fingers through.
“Come here,” he whispered, holding out his hand.
She walked toward him as though in a daze. Heat pooled deep inside her at the mere thought of what was to come. Taking his hand, she let him pull her into his arms.
He pressed her against his chest and held her as though he never meant to let her go. Touched beyond words, she rubbed her face against the silky-smooth warmth of his skin.
He ran his hands up her back, then unfastened the combs that held her hair in its tidy knot. “I love your hair. Every night I dream of seeing it loose and wild, the way it was the day I asked you to marry me.”
The heavy mass came free and tumbled down her back. He ran his hands through the long thick waves, smoothing away the tangles. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against him and sighed with pleasure at his tender touch.
“This passion between us…” He shook his head, moving on to the fastenings of her gown. “I thought I’d die from wanting you.”
She trailed her fingertips down the hard plane of his stomach, captivated by the way the ridges of muscle flexed at her touch. “All I ever wanted was for you to follow your heart.”
Before she could figure out to unfasten his trousers, her gown and bustle pooled at her feet, leaving her clad in nothing except her sheer lawn chemise.
“At least you believe I have a heart,” he whispered, steering her toward the bed. “No one else ever has.”
She sank down on the edge of the soft mattress, reaching up to place her hand on his chest. “Will you ever open your heart to me? I need to hear that you care for me, at least a little.”
He’d already begun to unfasten his trousers, but at her words, he paused and stared down at her with those moody rain-washed eyes. “I care for you so much it scares me.”
It wasn’t the pledge of undying love she’d been hoping for but, under the circumstances, she felt it was more than enough. “I care about you, too. More than you can imagine.”
“I’m glad,” he said, bending to take her mouth in a passionate kiss.
Breaking the kiss only briefly, he shed his trousers and kicked free of his boots, never breaking her gaze. “Lay back. I want to lie down beside you.”
She did as he asked and gave in to the temptation to look at her husband’s splendid nude body. His warm blue eyes burned with need and his powerful chest gleamed in the candlelight. His stomach was flat and hard, his thighs bulged with muscle, and his arousal sprung huge and proud from a nest of dark golden curls.
“Do you still think I’ll do?” A rare teasing note crept into his voice. Lying down beside her, he smoothed an errant strand of hair from her eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” She dared another glance at that part of him that was so foreign, yet so fascinating. “Can I touch you?”
Uttering a soft wordless sound of encouragement, he took her hand and guided her to his rigid length. She gasped at the unexpected heat, his silky-smooth hardness.
“Like this.” His hand trembled as he showed her the way to please him, how to make his entire body shake with suppressed need.
“Too much,” he whispered after a few moments, his voice ragged. “God, Emma. If you don’t stop, I’ll come undone.”
“I want you to come undone.” She pressed her mouth to the base of his throat, thrilled by her ability to arouse him. “I want you to completely lose control.”
Michael abandoned himself to Emma’s sweet touch, lost in sheer bliss. He knew he should protest further, insist she allow him to please her in return. But the quantity of whiskey he’d imbibed fogged his brain and what she was doing felt so good…
And then all thought and sanity fled. Ecstasy ripped through him, shattering years of cautious restraint. He spilled his seed in Emma’s han
d with a soft moan of completion.
Utterly spent, he buried his face in her hair and let sleep take him.
* * *
Emma stared at her sleeping husband with mixed emotions. As elated as she’d been to pleasure him, she couldn’t contain a sinking sense of disappointment.
Would she remain a virgin all her life?
With a troubled sigh, she slid out of bed and wet a soft cloth in the basin of water that had grown cold. Returning, she wiped away all traces of spent passion from Michael’s stomach with rueful tenderness.
His body had undergone quite a change. She brushed her hand across the soft vulnerable flesh that had been so hard and demanding just moments ago. This was what all the naked statues had led her to believe a man looked like.
She’d been unprepared for the reality.
“Michael?” She smoothed a few strands of golden hair from his forehead. “Are you awake?”
As she leaned closer, she smelled the brandy on his breath and remembered how much he had imbibed. He’d been drinking off and on for an entire day, according to the servants. Just her luck, that her morally superior husband chose their wedding night to get stinking drunk for perhaps the first time in his life.
Smiling at the irony, she lay down beside him and pulled the satin counterpane over them both to keep away the chill. “Good night, Michael.” Then, confident he’d never know, she said the words she’d been desperate to say. “I love you.”
* * *
Michael woke to the unfamiliar sensation of a woman’s soft body pressed intimately against his. Then his eyes flew open, only to slam them shut again as knife-like pain ripped through his skull.
Bloody hell, what was wrong with him?
Gingerly, he opened his eyes again. Sun shined brightly through the west-facing windows, so it must be late afternoon. Groaning, he propped himself up on one elbow and found Emma beside him, her face hidden the crook of her arm.
My wife.
As he stared at her, he realized something was terribly wrong. Emma was still dressed in her shift, while he was as naked as the day he’d been born.
The events of the last twenty-four hours tumbled through his mind. Dylan’s shocking revelations. The alcohol he’d consumed in a futile attempt to drown the pain…
After that, he remembered only bits and pieces, and he struggled to make sense of it all. He’d followed Emma up to her room, grateful that she’d given him a second chance…
A fresh wave of pain ricocheted through his skull. He took several deep breaths in an effort to control his nausea. The aftereffects of too much drink, he realized, though he’d never allowed this to happen before.
Emma shifted against him, bringing one long slim leg up across his thigh as she threw her arm across his chest. She nestled against him as though they’d slept together all their lives.
He turned his face into the fragrant cloud of her thick hair. The delicate scent of vanilla and roses helped control his nausea. Erotic memories flooded him, and his cock swelled to rigid attention. Oh, no. Had he really forced Emma to touch him? Had he spilled his seed like a green schoolboy, then fallen asleep without so much as a thank you?
If she’d meant to leave him yesterday, what must she think now?
How had things come to this? He’d been married two whole days, and he still hadn’t made love to his wife. Failure lanced through him, the pain of it worse than the hangover. Emma must hate him.
How could he blame her? He’d hurt her so many times.
Unable to bear the thought of seeing the disappointment on her face when she awoke, he slipped out of bed, wincing at the renewed pounding in his head.
He dressed, washed his face, combed his hair, and rinsed the sour taste from his mouth. He stood for a moment at Emma’s dressing table, fingering her brush and inspecting the many bottles of makeup and perfumes.
He opened a small crystal vial, overwhelmed by the scent of roses and vanilla that always made him think of her. She had come to mean so much to him. He didn’t want to lose her.
“Michael?”
He froze at the sound of Emma’s voice, embarrassed that she’d caught him smelling her perfume. Setting the bottle down with slow precision, he turned to face her. “Good morning.”
She reclined against the pillows, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in wild disarray, her beautiful eyes still heavy with sleep.
You’re already dressed,” she whispered. “Are you leaving?”
He took one step toward her, then stopped and cleared his throat, feeling like an utter fool. “I thought it might be for the best. I fear my behavior last night was inexcusable.”
She frowned. “Don’t apologize for being human.”
“Human? I behaved like an animal.” He took a deep breath, afraid to know the answers to the questions that haunted him. “Did I hurt you? God, Emma. Did I force you to touch me?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then slid out of bed and walked toward him, holding his gaze with tender amusement. “Oh, Michael.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. “Of course, you didn’t hurt me. I wanted to touch you. I enjoyed touching you.”
He released his breath in a shuddering sigh and returned her embrace. “I don’t remember what happened. I drank far too much. Can you ever forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she insisted. “But I do wish you’d tell me what happened to cause you such dreadful pain.”
He pressed his lips against her hair, overwhelmed once more by her unconditional acceptance. “It was nothing.” The pain was still too fresh, too new. He couldn’t bear to talk about it. “Just an argument with my brother. Our relationship is quite… difficult at times.”
She stared up at him with unconcealed doubt. “You seemed to be getting along at the wedding.” A shadow crossed her features. “Was it seeing Natalia again? She’s very beautiful. Do you wish you’d married her instead of me?”
“No. Not that. Never that.” He leaned down and kissed her in an attempt to prove that despite all evidence to the contrary, he wasn’t sorry he’d married her.
As always, the kiss got away from him, igniting from simple reassurance to blazing heat. Last night had only whetted his appetite. The need to make her his was more powerful than ever.
Emma finally broke away. She stumbled back and stared up at him, confusion and desire warring in her dark eyes. “What do you want from me, Michael? I’m so tired of trying to guess.”
His hands trembled as he brushed his hair from his eyes. “I want a chance to make this all up to you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then make love to me,” she whispered. “Right here. Right now. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He thought of the mountain of work he had neglected, of all that he’d left undone, and the confrontation with his father that lay ahead of him. For the first time in his life, he managed to shove such thoughts away.
If there had ever been a time to take a chance on something, it was now.
Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the bed. “Take off your chemise. I want to see you.”
Holding his gaze, she lifted her hands to the tiny pearl buttons, unfastening them with the instincts of a born seductress. At last, the beige linen fell to a puddle at her feet, and his beautiful wife stood before him in all her glory.
Lovely full breasts with small dark nipples. A waist he could span with his hands. Gently flaring hips and long, long legs.
As he continued to stare, he sensed her uncertainty. He lifted his hands to touch the silky skin of her shoulders with worshipful reference. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of.”
He ran his hands down her smooth back to cup the curves of her bottom. “My wild beautiful gypsy wife.”
Gathering her in his arms, he turned and deposited her on the bed, then sank down beside her. Much as he wanted to strip off his clothes and bury himself deep inside her, he was determined to make up for last night. He would
pleasure her first, show her all the tender restraint he’d been lacking before.
He leaned down to kiss her, stunned as always by the utter sense of connection, the feeling of coming home. As he kissed her, he explored her body with his fingertips. He discovered that her breasts were very sensitive and that she loved it when he caught her nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
Her hands fisted in his hair, and her breath grew shallow. “Oh, Michael,” she whispered, as he lowered his mouth to the sensitive peak of her breasts. “You can’t imagine how good that feels.”
“This is only the beginning.” He ran one hand down the downy softness of her stomach, before coaxing her to open for him. He touched her intimately, exploring her with a tenderness he’d never known he possessed, overwhelmed when he found her hot and wet for him.
Emma gasped, moving instinctively against his hand as he penetrated her with his fingertip. He lashed at the hardness of her nipple with his tongue and burned with the need to bury himself in the satiny tightness of her virginal sheath.
He found the tiny hidden bead of her desire and rubbed it with his thumb as he readied her to accept two fingers, then three. She sobbed his name and lifted her hips to meet the gentle invasion of his hand, shattering beneath him like a branch in the wind.
“Oh, Emma.” He trailed his lips across the downy softness of her stomach. “I can’t get enough of you. The way you feel. The way you smell. The way you taste.”
Her scent intoxicated him. He couldn’t resist. Kneeling between her legs, he kissed her in a way he’d never kissed another woman before.
She thrashed in confusion and tried to close her legs against him, but once he’d had a taste of her, he couldn’t bear to stop.
“Please.” His breath stirred the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. “Let me do this.”
Emma sighed, her entire body trembling as she parted her thighs once more. “I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was fretful, and her hands fluttered to touch his hair and face. “I don’t know what to feel.”
